


got these scars on the same ground

by jellybabiestomanual



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, completely unrepentant fluff, they're both assholes but they love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybabiestomanual/pseuds/jellybabiestomanual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It wasn’t even like this was a big deal.  Not at all.  It was just that Gansey had taken Blue to D.C. for the weekend, Noah was being more incorporeal than usual, and Adam looked like he could use a decent meal for once in his life.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>If “a decent meal” turned out to be a classic date food, personally cooked by Ronan in his family home, well, that was nobody’s business.</i>
</p><p>Or, the one where Ronan cooks Adam a nice dinner, but it's not a date. It's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	got these scars on the same ground

**Author's Note:**

> Adam doesn't have a cell phone, but he has one in this fic because I needed him to. (I need canon Adam to have a cell phone, too. I worry about him. But that's beside the point.)
> 
> The title is from "A.M." by One Direction, which was on repeat pretty much the whole time I was writing this.

If all the noise Ronan was making in the kitchen didn’t wake those goddamn cows, then nothing would.

Carbonara was supposed to be easy. “Super easy,” claimed the Jamie Oliver website he’d gotten the recipe from. Two hours and four failed attempts at edible pasta later, Ronan could have strangled Jamie Oliver with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.

It wasn’t even like this was a big deal. Not at all. It was just that Gansey had taken Blue to D.C. for the weekend, Noah was being more incorporeal than usual, and Adam looked like he could use a decent meal for once in his life.

If “a decent meal” turned out to be a classic date food, personally cooked by Ronan in his family home, well, that was nobody’s business.

Ronan dumped the last of the spaghetti he’d bought into the pot of boiling water and turned to stare at his phone where it sat innocently on the countertop. Adam’s shift would be over in five minutes, so Ronan picked up his phone and typed out a text that he hoped sounded as casual as he wanted it to.

_come to the barns when you get off work. it’ll be more fun than studying._

He thought for a second, added _free food_ , and hit send before tossing his phone into the adjacent room. It landed with a soft thump on the carpet. A minute later the text alert went off, but Ronan ignored it. Adam would either show up or he wouldn’t.

In between stirring the spaghetti Ronan chopped up pancetta. He tried to clear his thoughts, tried not to think about anything but the recipe, but the work at this stage was so mindless that concentration was impossible. So he thought, as usual, about Adam.

The thing was, Ronan wasn’t stupid. He knew what he felt for Adam. He knew it ran a lot deeper than a crush. He was acutely aware of how very much he wanted to touch and be touched by Adam’s clever, beautiful hands. 

But that wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was about Adam, who never had any food in his cold, solitary apartment these days except stale leftover pizza. Adam, who deserved the world and had only ever been given a handful of dirt.

Ronan’s knife sliced clear through the pancetta and lodged itself a quarter inch into the cutting board.

This wasn’t about him. It was about Adam.

_Crush the garlic. Cook the pancetta. Drain the pasta. Mix in the egg stuff. Don’t fuck up._

 

Ronan heard a knock at the door as he was putting the plates down on the kitchen table. Either Adam was here or the Girl Scouts had picked the wrong time to come soliciting. He took a quick breath and went to answer the door.

It was Adam, of course. His hair was windswept and his freckled cheeks were tinged pink from the cold, and Ronan didn’t know how it was possible that he could still be this blown away by a boy he saw every day.

“There you are,” Adam said. “I checked the barn first, but you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, not today,” Ronan replied, stepping back to let Adam inside.

“Then what were you—” Adam broke off as the door shut behind them. “What’s that smell?”

Ronan shrugged, all casual, and led Adam toward the kitchen. “Told you there’d be free food.”

Adam let out a surprised laugh, eyes darting between the plates of food on the table and the pots and pans littered around the stove area. “You cooked? _You?"_

Seeing it through Adam’s eyes Ronan suddenly felt crushingly, horribly foolish. Ronan Lynch, who seldom ate food that couldn’t be preceded with the modifiers “fast” and “junk,” acting like some kind of Italian chef? Adam was right to laugh, it was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous.

_This isn’t about you. This is about Adam._

“Yeah, me,” Ronan said with a smirk. He pulled a chair out and sat down. “I didn’t poison it, Parrish. And it should taste okay, I think I finally got that shitty recipe right this time.”

There was a pause while Adam processed this, and then he sat down in the chair opposite Ronan.

“Thanks,” Adam said at last. “I’m sorry, I was a jerk. You went to a lot of trouble and I don’t know why but I....yeah. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Ronan said, his mood significantly improved.

They dug in.

“Wow, this is actually really good,” Adam remarked around a mouthful of pasta.

“God, Parrish, manners. You’d think you were the one here who was born in a barn,” Ronan said, twirling his fork in his spaghetti with faux delicacy and a wolfish grin.

Adam kicked him under the table, and everything was back to normal.

 

After they finished, Adam insisted on washing the dishes. Ronan stood beside him and dried them, both boys unusually quiet. When Ronan had put the last dish away, they stayed where they were, leaning against the countertops, inches apart.

“So,” Adam began. “What exactly was this?”

“Spaghetti carbonara,” Ronan answered promptly, “from the recipe of a really punchable British guy. I’ll give it to you sometime.”

“Asshole, you know what I meant.”

“What was what?”

“ _This._ ” Adam made a sweeping gesture that indicated the whole kitchen. “Was it, um. Was it a date?”

“Fuck no, Parrish, you don’t owe me shit.” Ronan pushed himself away from the counter and started to walk away before Adam’s hand shot out and caught his arm.

“What the hell, Lynch? Who said anything about owing you?”

Ronan made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I didn’t make you dinner so that I could get into your pants. Or so that you’d like me back, that’s fucked. I just wanted to give you something good for once, you know, something other than leftover fucking Nino’s. Never mind, forget about it.”

He tried to shake Adam’s hand off his arm, but Adam didn’t budge. Typical.

“Look, Parrish, can I just—” Before Ronan could finish, Adam cut him off by pulling him down for a kiss. It was electric. It was life-changing. It was about two seconds long.

Adam pulled away. “That’s the most selfless shit I’ve ever heard, Lynch. Kind of a shame, though, because I was really hoping this was a date.”

This time Ronan was the one who pulled Adam in, kissing him and kissing him until they were both smiling too hard to continue. Adam rested his head on Ronan’s shoulder and started to laugh.

“What?”

“We’re going to have to tell Blue and Gansey about this, and they’re gonna be shocked.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, shocked that you can cook.”

“Shut _up_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted [on tumblr](http://helensgansey.tumblr.com/post/133477127772/got-these-scars-on-the-same-ground-1k-pynch-fluff).


End file.
